Storm Caller
by midnightfire98
Summary: Harry is born with a twin and a unique power. The ability to summon any storm at will. His family however views this as an atrocity. Follow Harry as he grows up and becomes more powerful, finds friends and becomes one of the greatest wizards of all time. Potter/bashing Dumbledore is manipulative but good intentions Weasly and Granger bashing.
1. Chapter 1

Prologue

A soft melody floated gently up and away from a grand piano in the middle of a grand ballroom, it was a bright and clean white with soft gold leaf designs bordering its edges. The piano sat atop a small circular raised platform that was barely large enough for both the piano itself and its player. The player of the piano was a relatively tall man even when sitting. His straight-backed sitting position spoke of an aristocratic childhood and his flawless playing spoke of many hours of practice. He was also a relatively thin man but that is no to say that he looked weak. Quite the opposite was true in fact. The young man look quite healthy and had a strong body with thin wiry muscles covering every part of him. His skin was an unnaturally pale color that contrasted beautifully with his raven black hair that shined in the soft light from the grand chandelier hanging above the perfect middle of the room. His face was a soft looking one but spoke of harsh lines that could appear if needed. He had the high cheekbones that was customary with those of his standing. Overall he was not just a handsome man he had an otherworldly quality to him, he was beautiful in a slightly effeminate way but none would dare say that to his face.

Couples and families and just old friends all walked around or danced or sat and enjoyed the music and food. As those that danced on the floor came to a dramatic climax in their moves following the music perfectly The music flowed easily to the last chord. All that inhabited the dance floor bowed to their partner and together walked slowly and with great poise back to their seats where they were greeted with much applause and cheers from those who sat around them. The man who had sat at the piano and played the wonderful tunes to which all had danced and reveled that night stood up and looked over the crowd and smiled at all of his guests.

Each guest was somebody that was very important. Whether they were important to the man personally or important socially or politically they were all welcome and dressed in the finest clothes they could afford. Many were in robes that were traditional to these types of events and they swished and whirled behind them with great drama. There were seldom few who adopted to come in a dress or tuxedo but those who did looked absolutely stunning in them and had become the topic of discussion for all the women and even some of the men that attended the party.

As he rose the orchestra that had accompanied him throughout the nigh struck a lovely and bright tune for all those who were eating or just talking. Younger guests started to file out on to the glorious marble floor of the ballroom and dance as this song required a much less strict form of dance than the one immediately previous to it, and so were able to dance more comfortably with their equally young and sometimes slightly younger partners.

The man walked slowly around the great room socializing and greeting old friends as the song once again changed to something smooth but formal where the real talent of the young children came out. As he walked around he was seen bouncing slightly as he walked to the happy tune. He worked his way around the room easily greeting Mr. and Mrs. so-and-so and their daughters and great-aunt twice removed and all between. He listened whole-heartedly to all those present and their grand, but slightly dramatized accounts of what this person said and how well Lord Something or other was doing in the political ring. He never tired and his patience seemed to be as endless as his party had been so far.

The night wore on with little sign of stopping but as with all good things the ball had to begin to stop at some point and it started with the families that had younger children either waiting for them at home or with them who looked like they were to pass out very soon. As each guest got up to leave he made his way to them and helped all of them out to the apparition point or to the fireplace where they took the floo back to their respective homes or manors or in very rare cases present in only the oldest of families their castles. He always had a smile on his face that never seemed to waver as he helped every guest off. It took about another three hours after the first guest left to see the last family out of the front gates and only when they had disappeared with naught but a small crack did the mans shoulders slump slightly and his face relax into a more passive expression that seemed to fit him far more than his genial smile he had worn all evening.

He slowly made his way back into the grand ballroom that was left with tables and small pieces of inconsequential trash that the house elves would retrieve as they cleaned later in the week. His manor, which in all fairness could not be called that because in all accuracy it was a palace beyond the stature of all others, was so large that even with his substantial amount of house elves they had to clean only one wing of the palace every day for a week. As he looked around at what he thought was his favorite room in his palace he remembered why he loved it so much. Every wall made of solid white Italian marble with gold decorations done with the finest sculpting by master goblin artisans that were polished weekly along with their usual cleaning. They were if you looked closely depictions of magnificent figures of the light side in grand poses and displays some in war and some in class rooms. They also had infinitely small runes of protection carved into them so powerful that the entire hall could have both the grand sorcerer Merlin and grand sorceress Morgana hurl their most powerful spells of damage and destruction and they would not even dent the thinnest bit of gold in the room.

He smiled and walked slowly up to the grand piano that still lay on its little stage and struck a few cords as he sat down. Once he was seated he stretched his fingers over the keys and started to play a quick harsh melody that flowed quickly from the piano and filled the room. Outside of his grand palace the weather seemed to respond to the melody for as he played the melody picking speed up gradually and becoming a slight bit harsher clouds started to form overhead and lightning began to flash as the clouds released the water that they held inside them sending it pouring over the landscape below. With a small, sharp crack a man dressed in all an all black cloak appeared upon the grounds of the palace and walked quickly towards the front gates which swung open before him. He did not even break his stride as he strode forth walking through the twisting and confusing passages towards his destination as though he had done so many time. He came into the ballroom and watched and listened as the man who sat at the piano continued to play as though he was ignorant of his presence but the man who just entered was well aware of that he was not so ignorant. He stood there silently waiting for the man who was only a few days younger than him to acknowledge his presence. As the Younger man finished the last chord the lightning flashed once more and the storm died away. The younger man turned around looked at the older man and smirked.

"Now now Neville don't you know it's bad luck to interrupt a storm mage when he is performing?"

The older man lost his cool and stern face at this comment and laughed uproariously and was soon joined by the younger man. "Aye I was but I never was smart enough to listen."

This sent the two men into laughter again. It was a few moments before they composed themselves again and were capable of talking once more. Nevile smiled grimly at the man and said "My friend we have known each other since the cradle and you know I would tell you everything right?"

The younger man smiled a little puzzled and nodded and responded "Of course, I assume you have news for me then?"

Neville smiled and said "Yes I do indeed. You are well aware that when we left Hogwarts that we agreed that you would remain to, your parents and family, anonymous and I would join them in society and most importantly the Order of the Fried Chicken to keep an eye on them and their plans and warn you when they made plans that endangered you." The younger man nodded, they had made this pact after graduation. "Well," Neville continued "your brother was found a week ago, dead." The young mans eyes widened slightly, he had not known this.

"Albus it seems," continued Neville "believes that he might have made a mistake all those years ago in naming the boy-who-lived. He is after you now. He has every order member he can spare coming after you. Harry they will find you eventually. Your parents are ignorant of your extravagant parties thus far but shall not stay so for long. You need to hide or they will come for you."

Harry gazed down at Neville with a slight smile on his face "Neville I have never run form a fight and I shall not start now. If they want me they can come and try and get me but I will not go down without a fight. Not after what they did to me all my life."

Neville suddenly started as though remembering something important. "I always have wanted to ask you about that Harry. What happened that has made you so bitter towards them? What did they do?"

Harry smiled a small sad smile down at his friend and spoke softly "That is a long story Neville but if you have the energy to stay up with me I shall tell you." Neville nodded and Harry seeing this started his tale. "It started as you know about 24 years ago on that Halloween night where the wheels of fate began to spin."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 1

It was a dark Halloween night, the sky was darkening and throughout Godrics' Hollow witches and wizards and ghosts and spirits and other creatures were flitting back and forth from house to house asking for candy from other people. The children that were in these costumes oblivious to the fact that the creatures they were imitating walked among them desiring for mischief. A tall man in a dark cloak seemed to flow across the street but stopped in the middle and looked around observing his surroundings. He sneered in disgust as the children laughed and smiled and took candy. He shook his head and focused once more on his task he had come here for. He walked slowly up to an empty lot that lay between two houses his cloak flowing and spinning madly in the late October wind. He reached the start of the lot and pulled a piece of paper from one of the folds in his cloak. He read what was on the paper and before him slowly the lot seemed to stretch and expand to three times the original size.

He smirked as the extra wards that had been put up to block him out came into view. They were pathetic little things that would do very little to keep any of his followers out for long, it was obvious that they trusted the fidelius charm far too much for their own good. He reached into the folds of his robe once more and withdrew a long slender piece of wood that seemed to gleam with anticipation of what it was about to be used for. He flicked it in a lazy motion towards the front door of the house and it blew back with a force that was not possible for nature. He walked slowly up the front walk to the small cottage that housed his demise. As he stepped over the threshold he got a sense of foreboding, that he should not have come and that it was best to turn back now and never look back.

He steeled himself, they were children, not just children but babies! He was the greatest sorcerer of the age, he would not be frightened off by a pair of infants. He walked straight through what used to be a door frame and into the front hall of the cottage. On the couch partially hidden by the door he had blown in lay the Lord and Lady Potter in their sleeping robes. They had it seemed planned to spend part of the night together on the couch jsut relaxing when the door had hit them knocking them out completely.

The dark lord for all of his seriousness and grimness couldn't help but laugh .Not a simple chuckle or a evil laugh a full blown laugh. He couldn't help it. Here lay on the ground a man who constantly defied him, who attacked him whenever possible and managed to escape every time lay defeated, by his own door. The hilarity was to much for him and he had to take a moment to collect himself and resume his menacing figure before continuing on to the second floor landing. When he reached the top he what he saw surprised him. A hallway, that stretched on forever it seemed. Going far past miles and every ten feet was another door. It was an illusion he knew but to search for the generator would be slow and would cost him to much time. Already he knew that Dumbledore and his Order were on their way to rush to the rescue of the Potters.

There was no way around it though he would have to look for the generator rune. As he was about to go into the first room to start his search he heard a cry. A very faint cry that was muffled even further quite quickly there after but a cry that only a baby could make. He spun around quickly, his cloak swirled and flew behind him flying with a mad fury. It had come form a painting he realized, but he also realized this was no ordinary painting. This was a family portrait, and not only that a still family portrait. He smiled and with another flick of his wand the wall was removed from where it was and was spread across the room in a cloud of dust and dry wall.

There lay, in two separate cradles the offspring of the Potters. In one was a completely normal just above average wizard, but in the other held his ruin. A boy who held enough power in his body, so he was told, to destroy all that he had worked he gazed down upon the two boys he couldn't help but smirk. They were so small and so helpless that it was amusing to think that one of them could even touch him, much less kill him. Never the less this was a prophecy that had been set in stone from the beginning of creation. One of these boys would be able to kill him.

As he gazed upon the first boy who was also the youngest he felt, nothing. Absolutely nothing. No foreboding, or fear, or terror that he expected just apathy. The boy was normal and nothing special. He was fairly chubby but that was expected. He had brown hair that was lighter than the typical Potter hair, his hair did however seem to contain the Potter curse and stuck up in every which way. He had had hazel eyes that sparkled with mischief but nothing special or powerful. He shook his head and moved on to the eldest.

When he saw him he almost gasped. When he had entered the room he did not get a good look at their individual features but up close he knew this was the one. At just over one year old the boy was beautiful. There was no other word for it. He had next to no baby fat on him anywhere. His face was slanted slightly but it gave him an other worldly quality that seemed to suit him. His skin was an unnaturally pale color that made him look almost like a doll. Coupled with his fine features it was not a bad comparison. The boy had long slender fingers for someone his age. His hair was pitch black and hung down on his head unlike his brother and fathers which always stood up everywhere. The dark lord reached down a single finger and brushed back a single strand of the boys hair and was shocked at the feel of the hair. It was silky, and smooth to the touch. As he did this the boys eyes flung open as he unlike his brother had been sleeping this entire time.

This time the dark lord could not hold in his gasp. The child's eyes were a dark, swirling, emerald green that seemed to enchant you and draw you in closer to him. As he continued to look at the boy he saw it. In the boys eyes there was a storm. He could see the flashes of lightning and blasts of thunder. And in that moment he felt as though everything he tried for was useless. That he needed to just stop and give up. And as he continued to stare getting more and more lost in the young babies eyes he started to hear thunder. This jolted him out of his reverie and got him moving again.

Rain started to pound on the roof of the little cottage hitting it and ripping at it. The storm seemed to calm the boy tohough and he was starting to nod back off to sleep again. The dark lord wiped out his wand once more and gathered his wits and steeled his nerves and uttered the life changing words. _Avada Kedavra. _A green light ballooned from his wand and flew at the boy in a moment of horrible grace. As it was about to hit the boy a bolt of lightning struck through the window and collided with the light destroying it. Mere seconds after this happened as the dark lord was trying to get over his shock several things happened. The first is that shouts came from down stairs. The order had finally arrived. The dark lord looked behind him and flicked up a ward or two quickly to ensure he would no be disturbed while he was killing the child. Nearly in succession with this tough the young boys green eyes flashed back open and zeroed in on the man and with a flash a bolt of lightning for the second time that night came through the same window and struck the man.

The bolt was so powerful that his body started to burn under the heat. He screamed in agony as his body was destroyed. After a minute nothing remained of the man but his wand which he had thrown down in his agony. A minute later footsteps were heard pounding on the stairs in a desperate climb to get to the second floor and to the children's room. At the front came Albus Dumbledore, Wand drawn, and his elegent white robes flowing behind him, he looked every bit the part of the white mage ready for a battle but what he saw stopped him in his tracks. The entire second floor lay in ruins. The boys room had been exposed and both boys still lay in their cradles. Lily and James Potter followed behind him wands also drawn. They to were surprised but did not stopped at the sight of the second floor but rushed to their boys. Lily picked up the Eldest and James picked up the youngest and they cradled them close to their chests. They stood their and rocked their boys as Albus Dumbledore walked around the room trying to decipher what had happened in the small room.

He used a talent few knew existed and even fewer knew he possessed. The talent of magic sensory. Normally this skill is limited to who and what was in the room at that time but since Voldemort was so immensely powerful he could actually see what he had done in the past hour in that room. He activated his ability and as he watched he realized what had happened. He knew that one of the sons had defeated Voldemort in that room while the other was ignored. Dumbledore also knew that if he were to tell the Potters that the would spoil their son to great extents. They would give him everything and never stop doing so.

This he knew would make the boy arrogant and easy to control. All he would have to do is fluff an ego and give a toy and the boy would do whatever he asked him to, for the greater good of course. He believed he knew who the boy was so he walked slowly over to the Potter Patriarch and asked if he could see him real quick. He exaimened the boy and found that he had a heart shaped scar on his forehead. He smiled and raised the small boy up and spoke to the rest of the order members who had slowly made their way up to the second floor, "May I present ladies and gentlemen I present to you, Mark Potter the boy who lived."


End file.
